operating on that assumption all along.
I started searching through Mac's backpack for some dry socks. I'd had a pair in my duffle, but Mac must not have bothered to pack them. It's a clue that you are hanging with the wrong crowd when you have beer, guns and about a ton of ammunition, but no clean clothes.
Marlowe looked slightly put out that his bombshell wasn't causing the uproar he'd expected, but he continued nonetheless. 'You've entrusted yourself to Pritkin's care, but you know virtually nothing about him! The Circle has obviously sent him to kill you.”
'This is a perfect example of what vamps do, Cassie!' Mac thundered. 'They cobble together some half-truths that leave them looking lily-white and the rest of us covered in shite!”
'He needs your help to find the other rogue,' Marlowe told me earnestly, ignoring Mac. 'But as soon as he has her, you're dead. Unless you let us assist you. The Senate only wants-”
'-to control your every move!' Mac broke in. 'Cassie, I swear to you, John was appalled when he found out what the Circle intends. They've gone power-mad! Even if they get their way and both you and Myra die, they can't be sure their chosen initiate will become Pythia. There are hundreds, possibly thousands, of unknown, untrained clairvoyants in the world. What if it went to one of them? And what if the Black Circle found her first?”
I smiled slightly. 'Better the devil you know, huh?' Mac looked somewhat appalled at what he'd let slip, but it was exactly because he hadn't made a rousing speech in my favor that I tended to believe him.
I glanced at Marlowe. 'Mac has a point. Pritkin was declared a rogue himself today for protecting me, and was almost killed in the bargain. Seems kind of extreme for someone who is only setting me up.”
'He is known for such tactics,' Marlowe said, waving it off. He gazed at me intently, his eyes practically radiating sincerity. 'Cassie, we have no desire to manipulate you. Our aim is to offer you an alternative to domination by the mages. That has been the fate of Pythias for generations, but it doesn't have to be yours. We can-”
I held up a hand, both because I didn't want to hear it and to keep Mac, who had grown dangerously red in the face, from going ballistic. 'Save it, Marlowe. I know the truth. And I don't intend to be dominated by anyone.”
'You know what you've been told,' he replied urgently. 'And you will need allies, Cassie. No great leader has ever ruled entirely alone. Elizabeth has gone down in history as a magnificent queen, which she was, but one of her chief talents was choosing able people to advise her. She was great partly because those around her were great. You cannot remain isolated. You will not be able to work that way. In the long term-”
'I'm not real interested in the long term right now, Marlowe.' I was just trying to live through the day.
'In time, you will come to understand that you need allies, and the Senate will be there. Unlike the mages, we want to work with you, not control your every decision.”
'Uh-huh. Which is why Mircea put the
'We will find a way to break it,' he promised. 'And in the meantime, the Senate offers you its protection.' I rolled my eyes and Mac snorted.
'Yeah,' he said contemptuously, 'just substitute 'prison' for 'protection' and-”
'You might wish to consider,' Marlowe said smoothly, 'that despite Lord Mircea's lapse of judgment, the Senate has protected you in the past. Whereas the facts make only one conclusion possible: the mages want their candidate on the Pythia's throne and will stop at nothing to see her there-including your death.”
'Another lie!' Mac surged to his feet.
He looked angry enough to go for Marlowe's throat, but he didn't get the chance. I heard a rustling sound and, quicker than I could blink, the roots that had been bugging me all day wrapped themselves securely around Mac. He tried to say something, but I couldn't make it out. Within seconds, only his outraged eyes showed over a coil of ropelike roots, some of them as big as my arm. Struggling seemed useless, although he appeared to be trying anyway.
Marlowe was in much the same predicament, but he sat quietly, making no attempt to resist. I noticed that, despite Marlowe being the stronger of the two, he was bound less tightly than Mac, with roots coming up only to his chest. Maybe the less you fought them, the less tightly they held you. I followed his example, hoping that they'd continue to ignore me. Then I realized they weren't the only problem.
'We are not spies,' Marlowe said loudly, apparently to thin air.
'You are in our land without permission,' came the answer; 'therefore, you are whatever we say you are.”
'Who are you?' an imperious voice demanded. A dolllike creature flew out from behind Marlowe to hover in front of my face. It was about two feet long, with a mass of fiery red hair and a huge span of bright green wings. It took me a moment to place it-her-as the pixie I'd seen a week before at Dante's. Then she'd only been about eight inches high, but it wasn't like I could be mistaken. She was the first member of the Fey I'd ever seen, and the image sort of sticks with you.
'Don't give her your name!' Marlowe said urgently. The pixie frowned at him and a large root with a knot on it shoved its way between his lips. It's a good thing vampires don't need to breathe, because more roots followed, twining around his face so thickly that only a shock of brown curls could be seen. He was gagged so effectively that it didn't look like I'd be getting any more help.
'I'm the Pythia,' I said, deciding that a title might be better than my name. As far as I knew, it couldn't be used in enchantments. 'We met before, at Dante's, if you-”
'I'll be rewarded highly for this,' she said, ignoring my attempt to trade on our brief acquaintance. 'Seize them.' A large party of shaggy things burst out of the trees, clubs and hide-wrapped shields at the ready. I don't know why they bothered with weapons-the stench coming off them in waves was enough to incapacitate anybody.
A couple of very odd-looking things converged on me. It looked like two gruesome trees had uprooted themselves and decided to go for a walk. The closest had a more or less human form, if humans were commonly four feet tall and at least as wide. But his hair was the color of the lichen on the roots, a bright flaming red despite the dirt that caked it, and his eyes were the same dung yellow as his teeth. He had skin as gnarled and pitted as old bark, and its color exactly matched the loamy forest floor. He was wearing only a small loin covering of oak leaves, which was almost hidden by the folds of his enormous belly.
His partner had him by about a foot in height but wasn't nearly as wide. Filthy gray hair trailed down to his knees, with the look and consistency of Spanish moss. Stringy muscles stood out on impossibly long arms covered in greenish gray skin. His body resembled a cragged tree trunk more than a living being, with knobby extensions all over like stunted branches. Instead of clothing he had long strings of dirty gray moss and a few ferns that appeared to sprout directly from his flesh.
I clapped a hand over my nose and wished that I, too, didn't have to breathe. 'What
'Dark Fey,' Marlowe managed to say. 'Giants and oak men.' The roots had withdrawn as quickly as they had come, baring him to the shoulders. I realized why when a ten-foot giant strode forward and knocked him in the temple with a club the size of a small tree. Marlowe sighed. 'It's always the head,' he murmured, then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed.
I backed away, lifting my hands to show how harmless I was. Unfortunately, it was the truth. The pack with my gun in it was too far away to reach and I had no other weapons. The shorter one laughed and said something in a guttural language I couldn't understand. Judging by his expression, that was probably just as well. I backed away as they stalked forward, trying to keep an eye on them and also on the root-strewn trail. It didn't work, and I ended up sprawled in me scattered leaves. As soon as I was down, roots wrapped around my wrists, trapping me. The next moment, the taller thing was on me, his breath like a ripe compost heap in my face.
'Cassie!' I heard Mac's voice and looked up in time to see him slide through the weakened hold of the roots and sprint for me. Everything seemed to slow down, the way it does when you see what's about to happen but can't stop it. The roots dove for him, and before I could draw breath enough to scream, one had pierced him like a living spear. All I could do was lie there and watch as he twisted in pain, a wooden limb as sharp as a knife erupting from the flesh of his upper thigh. He wavered and went down hard, dropping to his knees as I finally managed to scream.
